A Study in Forgiveness
by Servant of Fire
Summary: In which Sherlock does not survive being shot by Mary. And in which John's little daughter's imaginary friend, and guardian angel are one and the same. Written for my uncle, the night he died.
1. Chapter 1 His Last Wish

**Study in Forgiveness~**

**For Yeshua HaMeshiach(aka Jesus Christ). Because the Lord gives and the Lord takes away, bless the Lord.**

**For my uncle, wirtten on the night that you died, Go in peace.**

**For Birdy, Because you were truly loved.**

**For "Blondie" because I forgive you.**

**And for Elsa the Disney Princess, who taught a very broken grown-up to simply "Let it Go" thanks ;)**

**(Note: flashbacks are italicized)**

There's that breathless moment when he witnesses his wife shoot his best mate, and...

_Feeling the bullet tear through his shoulder,_

_Watching Sherlock falling..._

Watching Sherlock falling again, backwards, not so far.

Seeing the smoking gun in Mary's hand.

In the hand of the woman carrying his child.

And very suddenly the world goes dark.

Because it isn't enough that she shot his best mate.

She goes ahead and shoots Magnusson, too.

And then disappears forever, with his child. Who's dear little face, he will never see.

He will imagine it on the hard nights. On the cold nights, in the future when he is alone.

Alone...

Because this time there are no more miracles.

Because, this time...

_We're losing him, can't you drive this bloody thing any FASTER!_

_Oh, for GOD'S SAKES ,Sherlock, not again, please...don't do this...again._

Sometimes on the darkest nights in the future, he'll have a dream. A dream where his child comes to him, and sits in his lap. A girl, a beautiful, blonde little angel-girl is the one that haunts him. He feels she is a girl, and prays she is having a good life, wherever the woman that shattered his entire Cosmos ,with a single scrap of lead, has taken her.

"Daddy..." she will say, and bury her nose in his chest. "Tell me a story."

"Which one?" He'll bite his lip, expecting she'll want to know about some of his scars. About Afghanistan. But she never asks about that. For "Daddy's " sake , she doesn't ask.

"Tell me one about Sherlock..."

"Oh hohhohhohoho, I have LOTS of those, my angel."

_WHATEVER HAPPENED TO JUST THE TWO OF US AGAINST THE WORLD?!_

"Tell me about a time he saved the day, and you helped him."

"But, darling, there are lots ,and lots, and lots of those?"

"Oh you know, the very best one..."

John will think very hard then.

"Once apoun a time, Daddy came back to England, a very tired soldier. He was ready to "go away" ,if you understand..."

"I don't like that, Daddy..."

"No,no, neither do I...Because then you wouldn't have been born,now would you? My perfect angel..."

He'll draw his hand through her hair then. And she will hum...sleepily, and say in a tiny voice,

"But then Sherlock came..."

She knows this one. She likes this one best.

"That's right, that's when Sherlock came. I found him, in the very bottom of the big hospital, doing experiments with his friend ,Molly,"

"The nice doctor lady that still comes for tea sometimes?"

"Yes, the nice doctor lady that comes for tea..."

"Was she Sherlock's girlfriend?"

"No, but she may have liked to have been..."

"What happened next?"

_Sherlock opens his eyes one last time. Collars John, far too ferociously for a dieing man._

_"My vow...I'm sorry...I would have...I would..."_

_"Don't say "would". You WILL."_

_Grey-green eyes are burning out..._

_"Your child...One day you will find her again. I made you a vow...And I will keep it. One day I will send angels...One day I will come myself...One more miracle...for you. You will be with her...again...My first, and my last, -my only wish..."_

_"Sherlock...SHERLOCK!"_

"You might say, rather, that he found me. He knew everything about me that anybody could want to know, just by looking at my hands, and my haircut, and my phone. He was like that ,you know."

"He was a detective...A uh... consoling detective. The onliest one in the world..."

"_Consulting _detective, darling. And yes, the only one in the world."

_No use...This is already supernatural,this brief waking moment._

_"John?"_

_"Sherlock! Stop...don't do that..."_

_He's blinking wildly, "Just..stop it now!Stay awake!"_

_"Mary..."_

_John's heart goes cold at her name._

_"Forgive...Mary..."_

_He dies with the name of his murderess on his lips._

_"Sherlock?" John whispered._

"He gave me a home."

"221 B, Baker Street."

"That's right. Very good."

"Oh, of course I remember. That's where Mrs. Hudson keeps the good chocolate biscuits!"

"Hahahah, yes,yes that's the perfect place for free chocolate biscuits!"

"Tell me the part where he made you run..."

John will look up at the sky then. Still feeling it. Feeling the thrill of that very first hunt. Blood swimming ,like jet -fuel on a fire ,through his veins.

"When Daddy got home from The-Sandy-Place-Where-the-Mean-Men-With-Guns-Live, he couldn't walk right. He had to use a cane.

But the day he met Sherlock,something very special happened...Something wonderful."

"Kinda like a miracle?"

"Mmhhmm the first of many...

For the very first time, Daddy had found somebody who could see every single broken piece of him ,without feeling one bit sorry. Rather, this man, thought I was a hero, just the way I was. Said so...called me a war hero.

And even though he was very brilliant,he acted as if I was just as important as him. Asked me questions ,about doctor stuff. Wanted me to help him look for clues, and all that stuff a proper consulting detective is s'posed to.

And wanted me to keep up, of course. Ran after the bad people. We did alot of that -running-once I learned how again. That first time, I was chasing him, I felt like I was flying. I even jumped from one rooftop to the next!"

"Like Spider-man!"

"Been watching American telly again, have you?Yes, a bit like Spider-man."

"Sherlock was tall,Daddy. I don't know how you kept up."

John will sit up then. Not having ever remembered describing Sherlock to his daughter. They were always so busy talking about what he was doing, he never remembered to talk about all the stuff he was...He was...

"He was tall?"

"And he had bushy ,soft ,black curls. And really pale skin. And eyes that were shiny -silver- and -green ,all at the same time. And if he ever did smile, it was a nice sort of smile. Like the one in the little yellow faces that I draw at school, not so happy that you think he's only pretending, but not so tiny that ,again, it looks pretend. A line going straight up and down again. All matter-of-factly pleased."

"Oh? Who told you all of that, huh?"

She will smile then. "Nobody _told _me ,Daddy. Don't be stupid!"

Which will sound exactly like a child mimicing the great Sherlock Holmes ,as if she spent every afternoon learning his turn of phrase, even the lit of his voice when he throws the only-half-hearted insult.

"Then...how? do you know that?"

"Really, Daddy?" (Again, the child has more skill at mimicing ,by far, than the most glorious of the Macaw family).

"I really don't know?"

She'll laugh then, "How easy! I see him...all the time. He comes to me at night when I'm scared ,because Mum has gotten us in trouble with bad people, and we have to leave again. America, France, even China,always moving, and I hate flying. Sherlock comes when I have to fly. Makes bad jokes about the flight attendants. Tells me where everybody on the plane is going,who they will see when they get off the plane, what they will do in the new country. Just by looking at their sneakers, or their glasses, or their brand of laptop. Tells me all sorts of stories about you, Daddy. About how you kept him "in the right". He talks too fast sometimes,when he's excited mostly, but I listen anyway, even if I don't know what the blazes he's talking about, because his voice...It's BIG. Beautiful, to me anyway, and kinda scary sometimes when he's angry or worries about you. About how you're doing by yourself..."

And then John will listen as it's his daughter's turn to tell stories...

"He tells me that he loves you, but not like boyfriends. He tells me he wishes you would eat, that he used to like to watch you eat,just because you could enjoy food without it slowing down your "thought processes"whatever that means. He takes my hand, and holds it tight, when I cross the street. He teaches me how to "read"people.I'm not so good as him, but he says I'm good enough. Sometimes I have bad dreams at night, that the bad people have come to get Mum, and I'm all alone. Then he'll hold me really close ,Daddy, and he'll tell me not to be stupid, that it's really ok because he will always be there for all three of us..."

The tears will come, and silence will fall, as if the little girl is thinking very hard.

"Was he an angel, Daddy?"

John will laugh.

Was he?


	2. Chapter 2 The Consulting Dream-Catcher

**Chapter 2: The Consulting Dream-Catcher~**

Ellie sits bolt upright, honey blonde curls falling in her eyes,and screams, but soundlessly,so that it comes out in a little "quack" sound,as if she were a duckling.

She's lying in her American bed. The cieling fan is turned up high,as summer is VERY hot in Atlanta, Georgia.

Mum is asleep somewhere across the apartment. Or maybe cleaning her gun...

Ellie has had the dream again.

The one where the man with the wild brown eyes, the Irish-man(Moriarty ,but she doesn't know that) has gotten Mum, and is going to kill her, and there is absolutely nothing a 7 -year- old girl can do about it.

The dream catcher Mum bought her in the underground mall is bouncing around. She told her that the Native Americans used to hang them in their tents ,to be like spider- webs ,for catching bad spirits. Ellie hoped it really would catch spirits.

Except for Sherlock, she liked him.

She started seeing him in her dreams when she was really, really little. A year old ,maybe. Or maybe he had always been there, and she just couldn't remember it. She hoped he would always be there.

Never mind the souvenir from Atlanta's scary underground mall. Never mind the tempting looking bottle of Coca -Cola from the big bottling company there in the middle of the city, that lets you try all the diffrent flavors when you take the tour. Never mind all the shopping, and playing in the Olympic park by the fountains today, or the ice-cream. Never mind, she didn't want all that. She wanted Sherlock. Or really,she wanted her daddy-wanted _a_ daddy. And Sherlock reminded her of her Daddy, mostly because he'd known and loved him like his brother. For this reason, she called him "Uncle Sherlock..."

She whimpered for him, trying to say his name. Why was it so hard to make the sounds neccesary for "Sherlock" when you were chewing your blanket to bits?

"Whaaaat? What? Enough of all that silly whining. I've been right here the whole time."

He rises from the wicker rocking chair , that the last people who lived here left in the corner.

He comes and lies down next to her, propped on one of his skinny elbows.

"See?Right here..."

"It's so dark in here, you look bald, and your hair is so bushy it makes your head look tiny ,cuz it hides alot of it."

"Good observations. Wanna be my assistant?"

"Got a good case for us, Uncle Sherlock?"

"Maybe? There were alot of murders here, you know? A long ,long time ago, the Americans were fighting a war with each other. Can you image fellow country men doing that? Bleh, just stupid...But they did, because people are stupid, grudge-holding little creatures, and they never use their brains for anything productive. So, one of the generals decided it was a really good idea to burn this city up. Remember those huge dead trees I showed you today? That's why they look burned, even after more than a hundred years..."

"Why don't people forgive each other, Uncle Sherlock?"

He looked at his long ,white fingers, and his eyes got very sad. Ellie wondered about her uncle sometimes. Why he was always so sad...especially when Mum came and interrupted them.

"Because -again-they are stupid. Really, it would be easier for them to forgive each other, they ought to be at least smart enough to realize that they are so stupid they will never stop messing things BEING stupid, they can't do that either..."

"Why are you so smart if the rest of us are so dumb?"

"Beats me. Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"Can't." she whines again.

"What did I say about _whining,_ child?"

"The dream..."

His brows went up ,thoughtfully.

"THAT dream?"

"Uhuh..."

"Remember what I told you?"

"Yeah, but it's still scary."

"Well...feelings don't submit to logic...uhhhh...well? maybe we can make you sleepy again, eh?If I tell you a story, will you dream something diffrent?"

"Tell me about my daddy."

Sherlock smiles one of his rare,fully-teeth-exposing smiles. "Ah, those are the very best stories, and I have a plethora of them."

"What ,in the name of goodness, is a Pleetora?"

Sherlock tosses his head back a bit, and chuckles at her, "Cheeky little blighter, might be really useful one-a-these-days..." he mutters ,almost incoherently.

"A whole bunch.A lot more than a dozen."

"The best one, tell me the best one."

"Impossible child! There ISN'T a best one, I've told you a hundred times. All of the stories about your father are the BEST one, being that he was the BEST."

"Well...tell me about HIM then."

Sherlock looks up at the roof, and twitches his nose. Sometimes he reminds Ellie of a cat, all slinky and skinny,with shiny, soft hair,and piercing little eyes, quirky little expressions, and an irritable mood that means less ill-will than it appears to.

"He was... uh...smallish? Not really little,but not tall at all. Well, I say WAS- he still IS. He lives in England..."

"Wish we could go see him..."

Sherlock gets really quiet ,and for just a tiny second, Ellie wonders if he may be trying not to cry.

"I do too...but...we can't -so no use in waisting any brain cells fantasizing about it."

"Why not?"

"Ach! Because that's sentiment, and you know me and sentiment mix like ice cream and mackerel."

"Ewwww..."

"Oi, again with the whining Ella Watson! You brought it up..."

"My daddy ,Sherlock. I don't wanna talk about runing ice cream with yucky fish. I wanna know about my daddy."

Sherlock looks up at the dream catcher, eyes following its swinging back and forth, as if it were hypnotic.

Oh yes, very much like a cat...Right when Ellie was wondering if maybe he'd start licking the back of his hand , like a paw, he spoke,BIG voice rattling like thunder ,or the midnight train, through her tiny bedroom.

"Your father was-no IS- blonde like you." he reached up, and swatted her hair ,affectionately, indeed like a cat would some yarn. Ellie laughed, expecting Sherlock to sprout whiskers next. And then she imagined her blonde daddy, blonde maybe like the Golden Retriever she met at the park. If Sherlock was like a cat, maybe her daddy was like a dog, loyal and always there. Except when he wasn't... like NOW when she wanted him to be SO BAD...

She was crying then. And Sherlock's deep voice basically purred to her..." Shh...it's alright, really will be. I made him a promise , a long time ago. Someday we CAN go see him. Just not now."

He reached for her, and tucked her head in his chest.

"Uncle Sherlock?"

"Eh?"

"Where'd you get this scar?"

"Uhhhhhh..."

Just then Mum came in the room, "Ellie! What are you doing? Who are you talking to, you SCARED me, I thought someone was in the house. Go to sleep!"

"Mum someone is in the house, but it's ok, it's Sherlock he was telling me about daddy."

Mum acts like she doesn't hear her."Well whoever it was and whatever he said, shush now, not a 's in your head, an imaginary friend, like I told you, huh? So you can talk to him in your HEAD. And do that until you go to sleep, ok? We're going to drive to Nashville tommorow."

"I don't want to go to Nashville. I want to go to England, to see Daddy."

"Shhh...Bed . Kiss..."

She leaned over her, and gave her a light peck on the cheek.

Why couldn't mum see that she was tucked in Sherlock's arms, or feel his hair brush her nose when she practically shoved her face down in it.

"Why can't she see you?"

Sherlock sighed like he was a thousand years old.

"For the love of God, Ella, darling!-no more questions, go to sleep."

"YOU Hipposecret! You don't EVER sleep."

"It's HYPOCRITE,Ellie,dearest-and I don't need sleep. I am ,(orwouldvebeenbutanywayeherrrm_)40 years old. You are 7. That makes me 33 years older than you, eh?"

"I don't care! Just cuz you're old doesn't mean you don't need sleep. Actually old people need more sleep."

"I'm not old! I'll NEVER be old, hmmphh...But you are growing up,so sleep...please for God's-and-Uncle-Sherlock's -sakes, sleep."

"I.."

Sherlock passed a hand over her forehead , and thus forced her to fall asleep.

He hated doing that.

"Oh, why do you have to be John's female miniature? TWO OF HIM!" Sherlock leaped from the tiny ,therefore uncomfortable, bed, and raked his fingers through his hair.

John...

"Hope YOU'RE sleeping...Talking about hypocrites,and here you ALWAYS fussed at me..."Sheerrrrlockyouaren'tsleepinstayinupallnightlikeaBLOODYvampire-eheheeehhheee no puns intended. Good,DON'T make puns ,John. And look after your own little snot- nosed brat!"

He turned, for once guilty, when he heard an uncomfortable little snore.

"Your own...very-adorable-looks-very-much-like-you-only-girlier-has-me-wrapped-around-her-finger-nay-her-entire-HAND brat." he laughed, shaking his head, and dematerializing for a moment into the imaginary world of the mind palace,where he still haunted, and could visit John in the past any time he liked. Poor Ellie...he wished he could take her with him.

And that's when he first had the idea to arrange a meeting for them in their dreams...


	3. Chapter 3 The Lullaby of Music City

**Chapter 3: Lullaby of Music City~**

**Author's Note: If this description of Nashville seems a bit harsh, please forgive. It is the unbiased description of a native of Tennessee. The below mentioned places within the City,are all real places. My father used to work at the machine shop that's mentioned, and I went with my youth group to alot of the other places on outings "back in the day". I felt I'd be able to navigate my story better if I knew where I was in it. And I know the streets of Nashville very well.;). **

"Why do they call it the Batman building?" Ellie asked, eyes as large as full moons looking up at the two -pronged ATT( or used to be Bellsouth) phone company tower.

"Well, the two prongs on the side..."Sherlock obsvered, in her head, as he didn't talk aloud when Mum was around, "I suppose look like the ear-things on Batman's mask?"

"Can we go up there?"

"Oh no, no, no. Me and tall buildings dont' get along very well. I'll stay on the ground ,thanks."

"That sounds like a story ,there. One of you and Daddy's adventures."

"That's one story about me and your father that I just simply can't tell you. Not till you're much older."

"If you say so..."

"WHINING- Ella!"

_"Look, Ella!" Mum cut in. "Look, we're heading "Downtown" as they call it. Soon we'll see the Hard Rock Cafe, and I'll go meet my client at Coyote Ugly, so you can go play lazer tag at that building right next to the Old Spaghetti Factory-"

"OH MY GOD!" Sherlock growled, beating his head against the back of the cab-driver's seat. There weren't as many cabs in Nashville as there were in places like New York city, Ellie had been thinking, ignoring Mum until Sherlock's outburst.

"She's just a little kid,Mary! You can't leave her by herself to go arrange a "hit" on somebody with some red-neck ,beer- soaked junkie at a sleezy bar where all they do is howl out hideous excuses for songs with their overly -exaggerated sounds- NOTHING- like -the- natives- of -this- city- actually- do accents!",

But Mum -of course- didn't hear him. And Ellie began to wonder two things, a) what is a "hit"? and b) she wasn't going to BE alone was she?

"But I'm not gonna be alone, you'll-you'll be there won't you?"

"ME? PLAY LAZER TAG?ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR?"

Ellies huge-blue-way-too-much-like-John-Watson's-eyes told him she was as deadly serious as only a child can be...

Sherlock's concious spoke loud and clear again in his head. Voiced by none other than the magnificent John Watson!

"THE LEAST the very LEAST you could do, after up and DIEING on me, is go play lazer tag with my lonely ,little kid, Sherlock, honestly!"

"ALRIGHT!" he yelled, more at John in his head, than inside of Ellie's.

"Yay!" she laughed, clapping, to Mummy's delight, though Sherlock sneered at her bad-parenting.

~~~~~~~~~ "Sight-seeing! I want to be able to describe America in vivid detail when I FINALLY see my daddy!" Ellie cried, running out of the lazer tag place.

Sherlock puffed, that game way too much, in theory, like hunting down Moriarty's web, a long time ago. For the upteenth time he empathized with John's PTSD, and

"ELLA -OHMYGOD-WAIT!"

Nashville...

Noisy, grungy, machine shop -covered, industry -dingied, booze- flooded...

Dizzying, overly toured, Southern cultured, way-too-humid...

"Free beer and hot wings" over here,-homeless guy selling newspapers for Tent City over there...

HUGE hotspot for human trafficing...

Nashville.

Sherlock didn't know where he was going-this is one place Moriarty's scavenger hunt actually hadn't brought him , as he chased the child down the streets, as she got too far ahead, twisting and turning, and finding her way up on the Cumberland River walk bridge. And then-losing sight of her again.

His head was spinning with unwelcome deductions, and he wished -he really wished- he COULD turn it on and off like a tap, but he could NOT.

"ELLA!" he screamed, truly terrified for the second time in his, for lack of a better term, life.

The first time having been when John was stuffed up inside the Guy Fawkes day bonfire.

"Man with the ten-gallon hat there,wants to be a country singer,woman with the purple hair wants to be a rock star, -that guy- judging by that crease in his jeans knows a guy who knows a guy who-oh SHUT UP!"

"ELLA!" he screamed till his voice was gone.

The names of streets buzzed in his head, as he turned in circles, on his heels.

A toll- parking lot flush with Demonbreun.

"Oh God, Ella...your father would kill me if your mother hadn't beat him to it..."

"THINK,Sherlock. Shut up and think. Where would a little kid go if they were lost in a big city?"

"The police station?"

"Excuse me, can you tell me where the police station is?" he asked a woman walking past him.

"IDIOT! You are a child's IMAGINARY FRIEND. NONE OF THESE PEOPLE CAN HEAR YOU! NOW BE RATIONALE, AND RATIONALLY -IF YOU PLEASE- ,SHERLOCK,THINK!"

He started looking for signs, for anything that would show him where...And he got lost himself, so lost, desperately looking for Ella...For his Ella, for the only little kid he actually could be around without feeling like he had needles stuck in his spine.

"I've lost John's baby!Oh my God, oh God help me! I have LOST John's BABY! IN ONE OF THE MOST NOTORIOUS CITIES -IN THE WORLD-FOR THE BLOODY SLAVE TRADE!"

He was standing in front of Cumberland Machine Company just then, in the district known as" German town".

That's when he heard a child's sniffling coming from behind the big green dumpster in the back. And was also when he -thanking-the-Lord-fully did not see any unsavory types, or ANYONE for that matter, except maybe a few straggler machinists ,out on smoke break, hanging about.

"Ella, for the love of God-you scaired the BLEEDING DEVIL out of me, why did you-oh-stupid! It's all...gahhh!, hang it! hang it,Ella!"

He kicked an empty Budweiser bottle, hard enough to send it careening into the dumpster, and winced when Ella sobbed louder at the shattering sound it made.

He knelt in front of her."All I wanna know is, are you ok?Did anybody try to hurt you?"

She threw her arms around his neck. The cigarette smoke the machinists were blowing around(_so apparently America had no such smoking legislation laws as London yet?-)was wafting into his nostrils and turning his stomach into a raving-mad-nicotine-starved-monster.

"No...no m'ok...But a car nearly hit me..."

"Why did you run off from me?!"

"Don't be mad-I just wanted to look around..."

He puffed, trying to ignore the smoke..."Oi, I'm not mad, you SCARED me!"

"I'm sorry,Uncle Sherlock!"

"Don't you ever do it again!"

She clung tighter ,crying harder, at the terror in Sherlock's voice.

"DEAR GOD, YOUR FATHER WOULD HAVE TANNED MY SKIN FOR LEATHER!"

" I said I was sorry..."

He took her shoudlers..."Go...We need to go...I was going to show you something anyway..."

He leads her back to where he assumes the celebration will be able to be seen. LP Fields, the football(not the same game as in Europe, he made a mental note of) stadium there in the City.

"Do you know what day it is?" he asked the child, who was now obediently clinging to his hand."

"The day Mum left me in a huge city with only my "imaginary friend" to look after me, so she could go talk to guys at a bar?"

Oooooh those words burned. Sherlock shivered...

"Well, that. And today is also July the Fourth. On this day, over 200 years ago, America decided it didn't want to be part of the Crown anymore, so it declared itself it's own little rebellious-and now provenly successful-country. So, the Americans call this Independence day, right?"

"Uhuh?"

"And to celebrate, they have fireworks. And music..."

It was the music, and the over all spell of music, which the whole city seemed to be under, despite its many flaws, that he had been anticipating, because he needed it for his "experiment"...The one in which he would somehow get Ella and John together in a dream.

Because on the other side of the world, it being sundown here, it was deep in the night there in London, and John would be sleeping ,broken, dreamy sleep as usual, Sherlock hoped.

This would be a perfect time to arrange his "Orchestrated Dream" he thought.

He waited till the American's national anthem was playing.

He hung on to every lyric till _the twilight's last gleaming._

"Now."Sherlock whispered to himself, touching Ella's forehead to cause her sleep.

"I'll wake you up for the fireworks..." he added quickly,cradling her, and singing along with the anthem ,closing his eyes,waiting..waiting for the moment when the lullaby of Music City would sink into the child's subconcious, and he'd be able to write, into that music ,the waltz he'd written for the Watson family that long ago night of the world's most happily begun-most horribly ended marriage- to date.

Somehow, without his considerable skills, he knew when it was time, and began to hum the piece he himself had written. Into Ella's spell bound ears, into John's broken-record heart.

After a moment, he could see himself, playing his violin and sauntering up the stairs of 221 B Baker Street, with the fair haired child behind him.

"Oh John! We're home!" he cried, crashing through the door.

John stood up,eyes gone huge, looking no diffrent than he had 7 long years ago.

"Ella Watson, this is your father John. John, this is your baby that was yet unborn when you were first she's a terribly -trifiling 7 year old. And we all know who I am,

the world's onliest-dead-as-a-mackerel-dipped-in-ice-cream detective." he smirked, feeling he shouldn't have tried to be funny. But it's what people did,wasn't it? To make other people feel better...

Ella gave an excited shriek,and ran to John's waiting ,stunned arms. He staired over her shoulder,at Sherlock,shaking his head, holding back his tears, or trying to,till he got his answer.

"How is this possible?"

Sherlock was paying him no mind at all. "Home sweet home. But what the BLOODY devil did that meddlesome old woman do with my skull?! MRS. HUDSON, A WORD WITH YOU PLEASE,MAM!"

And with that he charged down the stairs of his old home, giving daddy and daughter a little time to catch up, for the first time. And ,this being a dream, they had all the time in the world...


	4. Chapter 4 Muthlabben

**Chapter 4: Muthlabben~**

**Author's Note : "Muthlabben" is the title of an ancient musical piece that one of the ancient Psalms, in the "Book of Pslams" was read to. In Hebrew it means "Death of the Son".**

**This chapter is going to backtrack a bit to before "The Orchestrated Dream", and is infiltrated with John's flashbacks of Sherlock's second funeral.I chose to tell this part of the story here because this week was Passover, the Jewish holiday celebrating the Exodus of Hebrew slaves from Ancient Egypt. This time is extra special for Christians ,as this holiday also marks the time close to that when which Jesus Christ would have been Crucified. As my uncle also died this week, I thought it was a perfect time to reflect on life ,death,and Resurrection/After Life , and so that's what I will do here. You may read it as a means to kill your feelings, my apologies.**

**P.S No offence to news-reporters. The one in this story happens to be a villain, but that doesn't mean some of you can't be fine folks.**

**Chag Sameach.:)**

"How is this possible?"

Not a word to him, not even the batting of an eyelash. Sherlock has been so set on getting Ella here, that he never imagined John would also want him here, want to see _him_ again.

For the first time in his life John felt torn in two. And not just two halves ,like when you rip paper straight up and down. More like the Mishkan covering , the night Messiah was crucified, rent as if by hands, from top to bottom, seperating Eternity. Or more like the great chasm cracking through his own heart, seperating Heaven and Hell.

Heaven being the golden- haired angel in his arms. She brings him to his knees, in total,sweet rapture.

"Hey! Hey, Ella..." he whispers, with an ecstatic little hiccuping sound, as if addressing a new -born. The little girl looks up , eyes a mirror of his own, made to look even bigger with their tears...

"You're real...you're real, I could never have imagined you-Sherlock has no pictures of you!...You're my Daddy..."

He nods, feeling his heart fluttering. Like a sparrow on the ground...

She's here, she's here, she's REALLY here, it may be only a dream but...His child...his Ella. No child had ever been more wanted,so he thought, than this one, robbed not from her cradle, but smuggled away from him ,safely confined in her mother's womb...

He touches her ivory face, as if the stolen diamond is at last returned, and he may just gaze at it, and try to size up its value with his eyes.

Oh...but at what price had she come? What lengths had her mother gone to, to protect her from her greatest threat,Magnusson?

Now Hell over-shadowed him, like the spreading of the raven's wings.

For on the other side of the Chasm that was Mary's place in his heart, a broken infinity that couldn't be crossed with a thousand fleet of star-ships...

Not once, Sherlock, never one to make it easy ,were you? Not once, but _twice._

There were no words to describe what Sherlock had been to him. The other side of the Chasm-of-Mother-Mary, had once been a Paradise of it's own. If it needed a name , one could call it "The Healing Field".

But...now...only memories...Those distant dreams a terminal person might have,as they slowly drift off to sleep, for the very last time.

Sherlock had brought him to a whole new world, and had taken that world away, so that he could live to cross over the Jordan river ,that he had cried himself, into the Promise Land, into "Beulah" land, where he and Mary used to live. Had come back to see how it was all going. To seal the vows, and see that all John's trees were firmly planted, to see that his life would come full- circle, and there would be a harvest.

And here she was, the very spring of his soul incarnate. Eyes smiling like the summer sky. As white as a lily ,but with just a little rose- tinged red about her cheeks. Wearing some kind of little silver- sequined tshirt, jeans, and pink sneakers, all laced up in bright neon green. Had to wait 7 years, before Sherlock declared a Jubilee, and here comes his harvest.

And John could dance for joy, and had a billion things he wanted to tell his baby. "Daddy loves you..." " I tried to find you." "I'm so sorry , my angel..."

So many, many things he wanted to say. Sucked from his mouth, by the Chasm his wife had left.

It wasn't a question of "_why_ did she do this to me?" He wouldn't waste time with that one, there would never be a good enough reason for him. It was a question of"_how_ could she do this to me?"

When he had loved her so immensely. When she had saved him from putting a bullet through his own brain(never mind how Sherlock had tripped over his own heels, scrambling, swiping at mid air to keep that from happening!), when he despaired of life in a world with no aforesaid Sherlock in it. He loved her, and he trusted her. He poured his heart out to her , as if she were _the_ Mother Mary , as if he could confess anything to her, and she'd keep it safe in the darkness ,of whatever that mysterious thing there was about her was.

But then...But then...

_He feels like he's going to be sucked ,via osmosis, straight through the floor, or up through the cieling, or as far as the East is from the West ,removed through all the walls. He feels like maybe gravity has sent out an APB for him, to clean his every fiber from the Universe._

_Somebody mutters about him maybe needing a chair. And there's a news-reporter that Greg is shouting at at the top of his lungs,_

_"HAVE YOU NO DECENCY! FOR GOD'S SAKE, I MEAN REALLY, I'M SURE IT'S SIMPLY SENSATIONAL , THE STORY OF THE DETECTIVE WHO DIED UNCEREMONIALLY __**TWICE. **__GOOD FOR YOU, YOU'VE GOT A STORY. WELL, YOU- AND THESE BLOKES!- WON'T HAVE TO BURY YOUR FRIEND AND COLLEUGE, THIS OLD LADY'S SON, THAT MAN'S BROTHER, THAT MAN'S BEST MATE- FOR THE __**SECOND**__ BLOODY TIME IN A LITTLE OVER 3 YEARS! NOW GET LOST- BEFORE I DIG A NEW HOLE UNDER THE OLD TOWER OF LONDON ,TO LOCK YOU UP IN!"_

_There's a commotion, and Molly whimpering, and crying,at some horrific crack the reporter made then, something like,"And was she his whore?"_

_Then Greg comes back in, panting, "I'd arrest them,by God, I'd arrest them...but...I don't have the strength today..."_

_"Sherlock and I -we didn't- we weren't like that..."Molly gasped._

_And then they had to lead her to the kitchen,as, out of breath from trying to protest, and thus hyperventalating, she was about to pass out._

_John has his eyes sealed as tight as he can close them, white- knuckling the casket._

_Yes, this time there's a casket. Last time Mycroft had had him"cremated" to cover for the lack of a body._

_He feels Mycroft slide up next to him..._

_"He looks so...young. This is why I absolutely HATE viewings, they never look ...like they did..."_

_John knows Mycroft probably wants him to make some kind of observation, but he can't -he doesn't want to ..._

_He looks anyway._

_Sherlock, despite his total failing grade at people skills, was a well- respected man, for his sheer genius, and amazing come-back...But that 's just a kid laying in the box, that looks a bit like Sherlock. But too young, and too ghostly white,and too thin. Wearing a tuxedo that probably cost Mycroft a fortune's fortune to furnish. Hands wrapped in a golden chain, that had a watch on it._

_The very first sign of Holmesian sentiment._

_John cocked his head. "It's our dad's watch...The one Sherlock gave him..."Mycroft said ,softly._

_Sherlock's father was in the corner, leaning on a doorpost, head in his hands. Crying, like an ordinary person, although pretending that he wasn't. Because he knew the truth. John didn't feel like he owed Mary any secrecy. And everybody would know it soon enough, when she didn't show around again. So he sat the Holmeses, and Greg, and Molly down, and told them the truth. And the truth made it worse._

_The sweet smell of roses was making John sick. The urge to reach in the box, and slap the kid's face ,and MAKE him wake up, was worse. Wake up so he could cling to him, and yell at him, but feel his steady heart drumming away, keeping his vow that said,"so this is a bit not good, but we'll get it straight,it's what WE do ,isn't it?" He can almost hear him say it..._

_Except he'll never hear him SAY anything again..._

Until the night ,in his dreams, when he storms upstairs with his violin,purring like Pinnochio's living-also-wood cat, and little angel Ella at his heels...

"Talk to me,Daddy! I wanna know what your voice sounds like..."she cried, eager to begin their relationship.

How was this possible, that John could be absolutley delirous with happiness, and crushed ,like the boot-heel of Mariana's Trench, with sadness, all at once?

Sherlock Holmes is how, and...-oh God!

He scooped Ella up then, letting the happiness work ,like a drug, to dull the sad. He kissed her face probably a dozen times, and said everything he wanted to say, perhaps somewhat garbled, and all at once. But she listened ,even if she couldn't follow it all. Trying to learn his voice, the soft compassion of it when his temperment was at its best, but knowing it had the power to snap to its own audio attention, when the need for Captain Watson came humor in it,and then the utter exasperation, and sometimes these two blending together ,like smoke and fog, and these the tones he could only use with Sherlock.

Who entered the room when the father was telling the child ,that all of these years of darkness and waiting was worth it because,

"I knew he'd keep his promise...I knew he would, so it's all ok now ,isn't it?It was worth being so sad ,if only to be so happy again, because I have you back..And I'll never let you go again!" he cried, and Ella's brows curled, "So, Mum, you can forgive Mum, and we..we can be a family again?"

John's heart went cold, and his brows drew up. Sherlock quietly closed the door, and stood by, folding his arms.

"So this was the master plan of the Great Detective and his Angel-Side-Kick, eh?" John asked, smiling good-naturedly for the little girl, although he was greatly questioning HOW to forgive Mary.

He wanted to...

"I really...wish I could, baby..."

The word "but" never left his lips ,at the look in her eyes.

"Sherlock, has come to tutor me on how to forgive your Mum...Since he already has. Haven 't you,Sherlock?"

He smiles, and draws closer. "Of course."

"What did Mum do that was so bad, Daddy? Why can't she see Sherlock?"

John looked desperately at Sherlock, who's mouth fell open, looking for whatever words slipped unspoken from the cage of his lips. Mrs. Hudson then came in with tea and chocolate biscuits.

"Still a life saver even in my dreams..." John laughed,to himself.

"BISCUITS!"Ellie cried.

"Thank you , ."said Sherlock.

"Come again?!"the old woman cried, suprised out of her mind at WHO had thanked her.

"You heard me, you old ,deaf crone!" Sherlock gasped, laughing like he didn't mean that to be awful, really,it just was awful.

Ellie climbed down John, and stuffed her face with the biscuits. And then she started chatting Mrs. Hudson's ears off, "Hello, I'm Ellie.I'm John's litte girl. My mum has a job that makes her carry a gun,and we travel alot ,because people hate her for whatever her job is, which she didn't tell me, but she uses a lot of bullets. We live in Atlanta ,Georgia now, or we did,but she decided to go to Nashville,Tennessee yesterday,and she wants to keep heading west for SanFransico ,I think. She said she'd take me to Hollywood. Sherlock says that will be miserable. Mum can't see him. Why does Sherlock have a person's skull, and why did you hide it in your soap cabinet?..."

"A captive audience..."Sherlock chuckled. John puffed.

"Well? Is she what you expected?"

"She's ABSOLUTELY perfect."

"Oh? You haven't had to listen to her whine yet. She does that alot."

"You did that alot too ,Sherlock, and you were in your 30's."

"Alright then."

John turns to look at him. He slowly turns to look back.

"Hello, by the way."John says...mouth hanging open.

"Don't act like you've seen a ghost."Sherlock scoffs, rolling his eyes.

John throws his arms around him.

This time Sherlock hugs him back.

"Ellie is teaching you how to be human, even better than I ever could have hoped to."

"Well, you learn to mind your manners, when you have to babysit a whiney,bratty, princess all the bloody time." he laughed, though it sounded more like a sniff.

They embrace in silence for a little while longer, and John gets the wish he had by Sherlock's casket, to feel his heart drilling into him,renewing his last vow over and over and over.

Only now he doesn't feel like yelling at him...

"You came to help me...solve the Curious Case of Mary Morstan-Watson?"

"I was actually calling it a 'Study in Forgiveness'."

"Daddy, you're fresh out of milk!"Ellie whines.

"And for once Uncle Sherlock isn't to BLAAAAMEEE..."Sherlock jeers.

"Oh,no trouble, we'll go get some."John laughs. He glares at Sherlock, "We'll ALL go get some."

"Me go into Tescos, really John,I?"

John and Ellie are standing in the exact same pose, lips twisted in a "I will take no crap off of you ,mister!" expression, arms folded, one foot tapping.

"O-k...a bit creepy that..."like daddy ,like daughter" thing...Was just coming...Uh, let me get my coat..."


	5. Chapter 5 Operation Reunion

**Chapter 6: Operation Reunion~**

_John wakes up at Tescos. Dressed in his old uniform.

People are staring at the wild look in his eyes, his messed up hair, how he shouts out a little girl's name, and whispers a man's...

People are filled with fear as this man panics, and they call the police.

Thankfully Greg Lestrade is a friend, somewhere close to the angels, and he understands.

He takes John home. To his old home, where he's been living since Mary left him, since Sherlock keep him close...

221 B Baker Street.

Greg has John's arm in one hand, and turns the old door-knocker back out of alignment ,just as it would have been when _he _lived here...

Everything still has an air of him about it. One might say his old smoking habit hangs in the wallpaper. The smiley face ,made in bullet holes, has turned into more of a wistful grin ,after the years of losing his neighbour , twice.

The old skull is smiling keenly though, for his old master has joined him where the Owners-of-the-Bones all have gone.

Sherlock's chair casts a shadow, like the sundial of the bygone glory, over the room. For just an fleeting moment, Greg sees him sitting there, long legs folded under him.

He is playing his violin, but the song is silent now.

And he fancies that he sees a angelic little blonde sitting at his feet.

"Oh,John..."Greg whispers, leading him to the opposite chair.

"Oh, John, I'm so sorry..."

Silence...

Hey ,mate, care if I make us some tea?"

John doesn't protest ,or saying anything at all really, so Greg goes through with his steam, the scent of brewing tea, something about that brings his spirit into the room, like mediums with their seance candle, and it isn't a restful feeling, it isn't a comforting feeling. John folds in on himself, and starts to sob into his knees.

Greg turns, slowly. There stands Sherlock, in his long,dark coat, and blue scarf, blowing in an unseen hair is drenched like he's been walking in the rain. The colors of his clothing, and of his own person, are somewhat faded ,like water-colors, perhaps made thus by the eternal rain that falls on him ,without the faintest sound on their old kitchen floor.

"Hello, you're making John cry. You'd best have a good reason for being here..."

Sherlock just turns and lets himself out, silent as the grave to which he has gone. But in the wake of his long coat, an old book lies open on the floor, flapping its thin pages...

It's a copy of the Holy Bible,Greg realizes.

He picks it up and looks at where it's open,

"_Forgive us our debts...as we forgive our debtors._

_And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil..."_

~~~~ That night seven-year-old Ellie makes her way along the streets, Sherlock holding her hand, to the Opry Hotel.

Her mother is upstairs,in one of the finer suites, and acts as though she hasn't noticed that Ellie ever turned up missing. She acts like she doesn't even remember Ellie being here, at all.

Which makes the child angry, and she plops on the bed, with a little growl, and a curl of honey-blonde falls over her eye.

Mary is giggling ,like the chittering of a squirrel,and then suddenly she is crying, and pours herself another shot of "Jack Daniels" which is a brand of whiskey.

"Awful,-oh bloody awful stuff."

"Mum! You said you were going to stop drinking!"

"Mummy says alot of things,Alice..."

"My name is _Ella,_Mother..."

"And I'm the Mad Hatter...Naturally..."she pours another glass.

Sherlock is being eerily quiet. He looks at his feet. His face is suddenly very grey,almost blue.

"Oh,you know I'd said I'd quit.I murdered my baby drinking this stuff...Murdered her, and Sherlock too! Bad girl...oh very bad..." she poured a little more.

Ella sat straight up, heart gone very ,very cold...

"Sherlock...What...what is she saying...?"

Sherlock closes his eyes...

"MISCARRIED!hahahhahaha, and after all the pains I went to to get her here, even putting a bullet in my hubby's best mate!-and I MISCARRY!"

"Sherlock, I don't like this..."

"BLOODY ASSASIN!You're a bad girl, Mary...and you're going to die a bad no husband, no Ellie, and Sherlock's blood forever on your concious...Cheers to you,Mary! You have to be an alchoholic on top of it all,and can't even get drunk enough anymore to get RID of him..."

Sherlock slipped quietly close to Mary ,and put his arms around her shoulders,as she started sobbing. Ellie felt her eyes gone huge in her head.

"Shh...I told you I forgave you,didn't I? I know why you did it..."

"THAT DOESN'T MAKE IT RIGHT!"she screamed, and through the bottle across the room, letting it break against the wall." Room -service!" she whistled, and her face fell back in her hands.

Sherlock looked up,with a suddenly almost-terrifying look on his face.

"I'll take the case..."

"Whose?" Mary asks, laughing like he's an idiot.

"_Yours..."_

Sherlock turned to Ellie then, and came to her very slowly.

"No,no,no,please...This isn't real, you're imaginary, and she's she's looney, it's not...Go away!"

"I won't hurt you,darling..."And something in the way the detective's voice broke, which had _NEVER _happened before, made Ellie freeze.

"What does Mum mean, miscarried? What does that mean?"

Sherlock licked his lips, and knelt before the child,taking her arms in his slender fingers. "Before you were born, there was a very bad man that was trying to tell dirty secrets on your mother ,so as he could get her, and you, and your father into lots of trouble, that may have gotten you killed even, your mummy took her gun.."

"Sherlock...?"

"She made sure the bad man wouldn't hurt any of you. But then she felt very bad about what she had done. So she started drinking things the human body should never consume...And when a lady does that when she's carrying a baby,it makes the baby sick..." Sherlock licked his lips. "You got very sick in your mum's belly, and you couldn't live there anymore. One night she went into a club's bathroom, and while she was re-doing her make up, you tried to get out of there...You escaped, but you weren't safe by yourself...So I..."

"You came and got me,and took care of me while I was too little to do anything for myself..."

Being a ghost, and realizing she was now, Ellie remembered being a baby ,crying all the time. And one night when Sherlock was crying ,right along with her, huge tears that looked so weird in his piercing grey-green eyes..."WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?!WHY CAN'T YOU JUST TELL ME HOW I'M SUPPOSED TO BE ABLE TO HELP YOU?! I DON'T UNDERSTAND YOUR INFERNAL WAILING!" he shouted, so loud it cracked the stained glass windows ,of the church they were hiding in. Then he pleaded with her unintelligibly, at a total loss, and held her close, rocking her back and forth, suddenly begging ,in a tiny version of his big voice..."Please...please stop crying...Please...It will be alright...Someday..I will fix them...We will...fix this..."

And then she stopped crying, and her tiny finger curled around one of his long white ones, as if they were shaking on it. He laughed then, making a chirping sound, like a tired bird, and the memory turned into a flood of other ones. It became very clear that she had been a ghost this entire always acted like she was only there some of the time.

"Do you remember...what I promised you?"

"That you would always be there, for my daddy,and mum, and me?"

He smiled..."We are going to fix this..There's only one way how..."

"How?"

Sherlock smiled...almost wickedly.

"It's almost your parent's 8th wedding anniversary! " he winked...

"Operation Reunion?"

"Operation Reunion is go."

~"I keep...do you keep...you know, seeing him?"John asks, stairing into space out the window.

"If you saw what I saw just now...then yeah,I'd say we both do..."Greg replied, the old Bible still in his lap.

John shook his head..."It's like...he's trying...to tell us something."

Greg looked up," A CASE! He has a CASE for us!"

John turned on his heels. "What?"

"Well, we used to consult him to solve our cases. So now, he has a case he wants us to solve on our own. That's what's with the clues and all that rot..."

John looked up slowly, having an epiphany just then.


	6. Chapter 6 Study in Angels

**Chapter 6:Study in Angels**

The following morning, John had had enough. He decided it was time to do what he had refrained from doing for many years, all in the name of trying to be sane.

But, he really wasn't sane...in fact he might be a little INSANE, and I suppose we should be understanding here. If you were in John Watson's shoes, wouldn't you be a little crazy too ,by now?

So, he packed up his over-night bag,and he went and got his Browning, loading it. And he decided to take the train going anywhere but London. The City was too haunted, to foggy with memories and death.

He didn't need to focus on the echoes of his own soul's screaming. He needed quiet, somewhere...where he could hear Sherlock's voice somewhere in his mind.

Sherlock had said that he wasn't an angel. John was beginning to think that wasn't true. Now people have silly ideas of angels, little cherubs with over-sized bows, that have an aversion to proper clothing, and like to cast spells of seduction on people_that would be the Cupid angels. Then there were those that saw angels as long ,white- gown wearing, harp playing hippees, with no other business but to walk through the unseen in the Universe, barefoot, and reflect on goodness. Others still saw angels as these elusive creatures, sent by God to punish us for our unrighteousness. Then there were the terrifying angels of the _Doctor Who _universe...And then there was the occasional man that would appear,with a cigarette lighter just when you needed it, and some pearl of wisdom.

John didn't believe in any of those sorts. But that's not to say that he didn't believe they were real. To be accurate, he had questioned their presence many times in his life, in Afghanistan, in some of the Moriarty nightmare, certainly post-Reichenbach. It was only after Sherlock came back, that he began to see something he never had before...

The willingness to do what others couldn't or wouldn't...The way he didn't understand humanity, but he genuinely desired to help them, despite the inferiorities he felt they had to him. And maybe this wasn't always arrogance, Sherlock actually DID have a supreme intellect. Actually did have gifts of observation, and other things, that most "humans" do not. Such as being able to become any person he needed ,via disguise, to get the information he'd need for a case. Or his ability to slip up like a shadow, and scare the infinity out of John in the process (which was actually a VERY hard thing to do).

And he had cared. Enough to die for him. As many times as it would take to save him. He had told him ,in dark half-revelations, the events surrounding his Hiatus. It was a nightmare that John thought he'd never be ready to hear in full detail. But he knew Sherlock's neck was on the chopping block ,just about every hour of every day ,during all of that, and it was mostly inspired by a desire to protect him on the home-front. John wasn't really sure how to feel about this.

But he decided -when he had come back-that Sherlock was a very human angel. One that bled,and cried, and really ROYALLY messed up,like any other human. But one with the amazing power gifted the guardians of Eternity. What was more, he was John's self-appointed guardian. He could seriously have chosen anybody else to use his gifts to protect. He could have become another 007, with favor of the Queen,and great treasures, John was sure of that. He imagined him with some posh ,personal island in the South Pacific, a physical incarnation of the "mind palace".

So,he saw it as choice when he continued to live at ,and share the rooms of,the flat on Baker Street, with none other than ex-army-and-messed up Doctor Watson...

He really must also have a reason for lingering a second time after a second death. And how could John find a way to speak with him,if he were smothered under the ink-bleeding, truthful lies,and fog of London?

So ,instead, he went to the countryside, somewhere where he,and the ghost of Sherlock Holmes, could be alone,their only witnesses, the sweeping green hills of England, and her tearful sky.

He found him where he knew he'd find him. Standing silent as the ancient stones beneath him, on a cliff, coat flapping about him in the wind.

John climbed to him,and watched him from behind, for a moment, feeling his eyes were as heavy as tears never wept in their torrents, but in their quiet constancy, just like the skies of England. This your mother taught you well,dear John, but maybe it's time for you to learn the art of letting go?

Sherlock turned,hair wipping about his face,like the feathers of a raven,trying to decide if it should soar ,or linger in the safety of the shadow. And his eyes shone like stars far,far away, yet inviting, welcoming John to the Eternity he could see now,beckoning to him,to ask of the wisdom he had found over the Water, eager to answer.

"I have...so many things...I want to say to you." John didn't even make the faintest sound, but he lifted his hands a little, and the scrolls of the sky rolled up the rain,and they stood in the light of another Day, a Day Without Rain,somewhere beyond the dust of the cries of Beni Ha Adam-"the Sons of the Red Clay".

"Thank you, would be the first thing. You gave me a glimpse of my daughter,and I will always be grateful for that...But I learned from you, a great deal of things, yes? And logically if she is with you,then she is not of this earth, anymore. So, don't try to tell me it will be ok, that I will get to have her, hold her,raise her, walk her down they aisle...I know what happened,Sherlock.I suspected Mary was drinking before it all went to the devil,and I'm a doctor...I know she lost our baby...And it's ok, you know? I know my baby is in good hands, yeah? You kept your promise to me...and again- thank you."

Sherlock's brows have curled ,listening intently but not interrupting. Allowing John to say all that he needed to say.

"And I know...I know..- I NEED to forgive her. For my sake. For her sake. For your sake,and for Ellie's sake-and for God's sakes,I want to...I REALLY want to..." he bites his lip,and his hands knot in his sweater...

"I don't know how...I can't see her as a Bride, anymore. As a mother-to-be, of the most beautiful child! that every graced the After-Life...I can't see...our home, the life we could have built. I can't see her healing heart, throughout the years that you were gone...

I can only see you falling...taken down like a subtle wave, under her smoking gun. I can't feel her warm kiss, with out thinking of your warm blood pouring all over my hands.

And I can only see her walking away...with my child inside her...taking...everything from me..."

John finds it hard to breathe under the piercing gaze of those long -looked-for, absent eyes. He feels tiny tears, but he won't weep, no...no not like he wants to. He won't throw his arms around Sherlock,and fall with him into the grass weeping for the rest of Eternity,or until his eyes bleed,and empty his veins, and when his heart stops,Sherlock carry him away, and it be done. No,it's because of those eyes, he won't. He tells him to hold on,without saying a word...

"You always come back, give me a second chance to say...what I didn't get to say...But you...why can't you just SAY...what I know you're thinking?Sherlock...please...there's so much I want to tell you, but that's not why I came...

Talk to me...You talk...I came to listen."

He speaks then,"Thunder Voice" startling England awake, a lark screams, the clouds roll over that light, and then with the love in the voice, dark as smoke, soft as wind, heavy as the water, he puts her back to sleep.

"Oh, we will talk. But not here...I know a place. And you need a seat. ...Oh...come here."

His brows curl in concern ,at how John wavers. He holds out a hand, and John takes it, grasps it firmly,and Sherlock slips his arm around him, like taking a smaller bird under the greater wings that angels own...


	7. Chapter 7 A Seat by Haunted Fires

**Chapter 7: A Seat by Haunted Fires~**

By and by they found their way to an old hotel,much like the one they had stayed in when they were solving the case of the "Hound of Baskerville".

Only in this musty old room, with many oaken tables, and the stone hearth, there were no people. They were alone, like in days-gone-by, and very gladly, for all their pain , alone.

"It's cold."Sherlock observed, pushing John into one of the chairs. He lifted an old wool blanket ,woven in a rare Tartan pattern,and wrapped it around him. And then he sat opposite him, and propped his chin on his knuckles, staring into the flames of the low burning fire. Was not satisfied with it, and blew a great breath into it. The flames leaped up in the shape of wolves,and howled at the moon.

John flinched."Easy..."Sherlock laughed, deep ,rumbling, like the far away summer storm, laughter.

"What the-?"

"It's under a spirit's enchantment..."

"Really,Sherlock?"

"Would I lie to you?Oh never mind, don't answer that."

John's jaw set."Wait! No!,no one would ever be able to convince me that you would lie to me ,EVER."

"The fire is bewitched. Haunted,you may say."

John is quiet then.."And who is it being "haunted"...by?"

"Me ,of course." Sherlock laughed, a chittering sort of laugh, that made the flames suddenly turn into a hundred little dancing people, and John realized one of them was playing a violin.

The scene of his wedding ,re-created in fire.

"This fire is my soul ,set bare before you. I can show you anything you want to see ,from the depth of my own heart. I don't SAY what I'm thinking, because some things cannot be SAID."

His eyes get a distant look.

John swallows..."Don't show me..."Sherlock looks up,and the flames die down."I mean..I was about to say, Don't ONLY show me what I NEED to know...Show me...uhhh..."

He idea of Sherlock's soul being as clearly visible before him as the inner workings of a gypsy's crystal was...almost unsettling. How Sherlock felt about the world, and the people in it, about him...

"Show me everything..."

Sherlock closed his eyes, and the fire began to ripple ,like water springing out of a fountain.

And then, the fire stood up as a wall, like a screen, and a shadow was projected on it, somewhat like one of those "shadow plays " John saw on telly a few times, but this was actually almost like the shadows were 3 D, and moving through the fire, as if the fire were a globe, and not flat, but encompassing. The first two shapes, were of a tall ,thin man, and a little girl. Ellie developing from baby to elementary student, shown here as the center of his fire, that which gave life to his heart. The shape of a woman on one side of the fire,suddenly causes very black smoke to billow in the room,and wrap around Sherlock like the Reaper's cloak, clothing him in death and despair. The image of a man on the other side of the fire, on his knees, crying, as the tall man is shot down,and the little girl cries ,and cradles the dead man, as blue fire bleeds from his shadowy woman- shadow is clothed in green flames and dances away.

And then the entire fire is put out, and in the embers suddenly, formed by coals, the man's shape appears, outlined by the smouldering of the fire, and a blue flame appears bleeding through where his heart should be. Suddenly, images of a man tormented ,begin to take shape,hung in flames, as every scene of the infamous Hiatus plays out,from Barts to coming back to London.

Sherlock's whole life unravels in rewind then, like a spindle of flame, and John sees everything, himself mostly, and when he walks through the fire, he gives it a sudden burst ,that makes it crack like lightning's landing, and he jumps in his seat every time. Case after case, thrill after thrill, the flames swallow shadows, as if they were paper.

"It is time to face the facts for what they are. And then we can form a solution to our problem. And to tell you the truth, I am happy to be dead." Sherlock said, voice low.

"Come again?"

"Well, I'm not bound by the social confines that held me anymore. As I saw it, my very self, was a cage. She ended me, so I am free now. And my memory, and love, and the things I cared about, that I was groomed to hide..."he smiles,bitterly. "She did what she had to do..."

John's mouth is gaping. He wondered how this revelation was supposed to get him any closer to forgiving Mary?

"She had...to kill you, Sherlock, that was necessary?"

"She RELEASED me!"Sherlock says, and stands up,and the fire leaps out of its place,and swathes him in itself. John gawks at him, clothed in the eyes are fuel for his fire, and glitter in the light.

"She released me to a clearer vision."he says."To an ultimate reality. She taught me the diffrence between right and wrong. And just because what she did was convenient,and "the best solution" that did not make it RIGHT. I have solved a major thing for you,just now, an unresolved question-the "why". Well,John, the "why" is, she didn't care. Which is preciscely "why" you are so angry,and can't let it go. You really DO care. But she did not weigh the consequences. She miscalculated ,horrendously, by horribly misjudging the outcome of actions. Her shot was originally intended to critically wound me. Your entrance is what caused her to misfire ,just slightly enough to kill me..."

John's mouth twitched, but Sherlock knew the question, and never let it be said, "But, how could it have been your fault? They were her actions, whether you had entered the room or not. She has made horrific choices...The consequences have been absolutely astronomical for you to have to pay. And you want to forgive her, because you still love her, but you are looking for a good enough "why" of your own. You have done things in war yourself, for which ,you feel, you can receive no forgiveness. You feel as though there is no good enough "why" to have what you want, which is ultimately, the return of your wayward wife, because you feel this is a punishment of sorts. You can't be released from the grudge you hold, because you don't deserve to be free of it..."

John is shocked by his ability to burn right through him, and his stone walls, and lay the truth at his feet.

"But I showed you all that other, and there is yet more I could show give you a good enough reason why. John, how STUPIDLY simple...YOU are a good enough reason why.."Sherlock unrolls the flame cloak,and lets it slip back into the hearth, as if maybe he will again tell stories on the flaming scroll with which he writes his heart.

"The "why" you seek, the reason you could do it for is this-you are better. And you care, and you know the consquences,and you can pay them. You are better than us, John. Your heart is light, where mine is darkness. For the merit of your own identity, you should do this. Or ,do you KNOW, who you are?"

The question stung like a billion hornets...

"I'm a doctor, I'm supposed to save people. But... I couldn't save you."

Sherlock turns. "You couldn't then. You can now."

Then he lifts his shirt, and shows that he is wrapped in horrific chains, that are halfway lodged in his bones, and half way protruding from them. And that slide and scrape,like the bow over violin strings, against his ribs, eliciting the song of agony from his very fire.

"Your forgiveness can unbind my chain..."he whispers..."If you simply realize what you ARE, and most importantly WHO you are, to me in particular.." he smiled.

"You could save me, and thus forgive yourself. Which would set you free to forgive her...There I've solved your case...now..."

He snaps his fingers under John's nose, like a hypnotist. And John realizes then, that the keys to unlocking Sherlock's chain, are hanging on a ribbon, tied about his wrist.

Sherlock sits in his chair, and folds his long legs."The choice is yours, and we've got all night...But only YOU can take these.."he indicates the bundles of steel cocooning his ribs,"Off of me..."

John's hand covers his mouth in horror...

He was at the greatest cross- roads of his entire life. Had always managed to forgive, in the end. Had forgiven in the guy who shot him,...Sherlock for leaving...,and even in his heart, he had already forgiven Mary though he didn't know it yet.

It was himself he never could forgive...

Not until tonight.

Tonight he raised the key, and contemplated its power, trying to dig it out of his bones, the will to use it, pleading with God to give him some sort of motion.

Sherlock lay back, in silence,as if he were dozing,and let John decide.


	8. Chapter 8 Joyful Tears

**Chapter 8: Joyful Tears**

It was the hour before the dawn, when John woke Sherlock.

"I'm ,uhhhh,...I'm ready now..."

Sherlock smiled,as if being told that the War was over. It was now...

"Not here..."he whispered, and clapped his hands, and the dieing fire passed away, with a gasp of wind.

"Follow me."

"Anywhere."John gasped, taking Sherlock's extended hand.

Again they climbed the cliff that looked over England's sleeping beauty, with downcast eyes. Sherlock walked ahead of John, and pealed out of his coat,and untied his scarf, surrendering it to the wind.

Now that he was out from under the garment's shadow, one could see how the chains dug into his every fiber, like the slow clenching of greedy snakes. Draining him of the ethereal air. Causing him an exhaustion akin with the desert sands. He looked up, and his eyes shone like they did in the fire last night, and the dawn slowly began to creep over the long green locks of England's wind-tossed hair.

The shirt he was wearing was white like moon-light. But the chains suddenly glowered, black as coals in a fire, and burned the shirt away, leaving his pale skin exposed to the dawn, and leaving the chains, which were dark as the bars of hell...He stretched out his arms, like he did when he leaped from St. Bartholomew's peak. He bowed his head, as if surrendering his soul. He said nothing, only listened to the silence, as John tried to rally the courage to breathe.

He peered up, after a long moment of silence. Begging for release, without a single word. And it was in that moment, if for nothing but for the love of Sherlock, that John forgave all things. And reached, and ran his hands along the chains, until he found the locks. It seemed there were thousands of them, but with as much speed as he could muster, he undid them all. With a doctor's steady hands, he reached under Sherlock's ribs,and began to pull at them, gently. "Why wait?You can't do me any harm. Really, you're doing me favors...tear at them..."

"Sherlock...I?"

"I never said this was going to be painless, just GET THEM OFF ME!" Sherlock begged through grit teeth,with clenched -closed eyes.

John reached them then, and ,with all his strength, ripped them free. This sent Sherlock straight to his knees, with a cry that would have sent the Hell-hound scurrying for shelter...

John stood ,gasping, just to try to breathe...Just breathe...

What had he done?

He was holding years worth of chains. Chains he had bound his own heart in...

But he was _Sherlock's_ heart, he himself was, that which had filled up the hole in his humanity. Everyone had known this, except for John.

So when John chained himself, over and over ,and zealously so, really he was binding Sherlock up, wretchedly.

The error of his ways lay before him, as Sherlock's body was covered in bleeding welts...

"Oh my God...what have I done to you?"John wept.

The chains began to fade ,like ice in summer,from his hands.

Sherlock's wounds began to smoke, and Sherlock sobbed,fingering them, sobbing turning into laughter as they closed.

"You have SAVED me,you fool! Stop passing judgement on yourself!"

John crawled to him then, and hugged him tight. He coughed violently, and wept, tears of joy, and these were more genuine than ever the tears of his sorrow had been. He wept very openly, giggling like a child, and clutched John's head..."Finally, we can finish this!"he gasped, excitement making his body shiver, like a race-horse at the starting gate.

"You mean Mary's case?"

"That and more ,my friend...That and so much more..."

John smiled, through their mutual tears. He reached his palm, and drew it affectionately over Sherlock's high,tear -stained cheek bones.

"Sorry, but we aren't doing any sleuthing, until you're fully dressed again."

Sherlock smiled. And slowly stood up. He reached his hands up ,into the light of the sun, and began to spin them in circles, like a ballerina, or something. John 's eyes popped out of his face, wondering what in _blazes_ he was up to now.

He had ,apparently, been weaving the light into fabric, how John wasn't sure, because a shirt like the shirt he had been wearing, materialzied in his flapping hands, and he pulled it on. Then he whistled for the East wind, and it fetched him his coat, and scarf, and even set the deer-stalker right on top his head. He looked up at it,and his brows formed a flat line of irritated submission to the Fates,for insisting he wear this hat.

John started cracking up, bowing over, and pointing his finger at him, happy to the point of giddyness, that the chains of his heart were long gone now. Sherlock smiled good-naturedly at him, but to the wind he cried,

"Take your death frisbee back!" he practically wailed, actually, and threw to the wind. Then he set his face to the path down from the cliff. Reached for his hair, gathering his thoughts.

"Aha,train station. Coming,John?"

"Always!"John cried, joyful for the first time in forever, and was at his heels in a rapture's blink.


	9. Chapter 9 Case Closed

**Chapter 9: Case Closed~**

John knew it would be hard. But his imagination never took him to just how _hard _it would be.

How hard would be the train ride back from Dartmoor, going...

"Sherlock?" John whispered, although they were alone, at this end of the train.

Rain was pouring down the train's windows. Sherlock leaned against the pane, fingers drumming at the glass, tracing the tears of England, like he wished he could wipe them all away.

So much sorrow. The train was filled with it ,like the fog that is London, her rain, her tears, her sadness. Pain that Sherlock Holmes had tried to ease. And this had been his reward.

"Mmm?"

He turned from the window, eyes still aflame. John began to wonder what sustained that fire within his soul, what kept him from burning out?

The rain came down like static tearing through the Universe. Passengers huddled into their coats, to retain what warmth that remained. And the wheels went on churning , the train's "chchchhcchhcchchchchhchh" sounds becoming synonmous ,in John's mind, with the soft puffing of someone in the stage of dying.

"Where are we going?"

Sherlock smiled, "There is something I want you to see, before we pursue Mary..."

John really didn't understand why. Why Sherlock? Young and brilliant...But more so ,he didn't understand why Sherlock forgave Mary. He knew why he wanted him to do so himself...But..why was he still helping the Watsons, when he might as well be resting in peace?

And then it hit John. Sherlock's reason, that is.

When he makes a vow...

_One day I will send angels...One day I will come myself..._

John burst into tears ,right there on the train.

Nobody could see the spirit that comforted him. One or two of the passengers closer to this secluded end, decided to move up a few more rows, and leave it in complete isolation.

And John drew up his knees and wept, letting everything go.

Forgiveness ,he decided, was like allowing something to die in oneself, that had been so sick and so wrong for far too long.

"Die ,John..." he told himself. "Let it die...Let it all be over now...Move on..."

His desicion was already made, he just wasn't ready to say it.

He didn't want to solve Mary's case. He just wanted to find Mary...To take her back again.

But when something dies, something has to be buried...Sherlock knew that probably better than anyone else, being he had died and been buried twice, which wasn't natural.

"My first and my last vow...Why are you crying?Didn't you believe me?"

"People don't do things like that though!" John gasped, and rubbed viciously at his eyes, "They only make promises as long as it suits only love you till it's time for them to go, till you're not ok..Then they pull triggers, and blow through your life like a bomb going off, and you're left in shrapnel ,somewhat remiscent of your rib cage, wondering if maybe the blackened debris was a human heart, and too dumbstruck to realize that it was _your_ heart."

"My heart ? Yes ,you are "my heart". And I am very sorry that all of this happened to you...that I couldn't stop it from happening. But ,you ought to know by now, I am no where close to"people", John...And when I say I will do something...then I mean to do it..."

Suddenly the train began to slow down, and it filled up with a smoke,and a wind that howled like wolves. Sherlock hauled John to his feet.

John realized wide-eyed, and almost afraid, that the cars were empty now, that the driver had disappeared. That Sherlock somehow spirited them literally away,into a rain -misted ,midsummer eve's graveyard...

The graveyard where he was ...

John gasped, "Why, why have you brought me here?"

"Trust me..."Sherlock mutters, looping an arm around John's trembling arm.

John's knees start knocking, "I can't go back here...I'm sorry but...one time of you being ..here...was enough..."

"But I never was here, and we're not going to my grave anyway..."

"Sherlock, I..."

"Trust me..."

Sherlock basically dragged a weeping,kicking, and snarling John through the mist, that was too cool for summer,but not as cool as spring.

By and by the sun had gone down, and the stars began to show their faces, across the vigil of night.

There was a cute little stone,tucked away under a tree.

Sherlock pointed...John fell to his knees and crawled to it...

The stone said MARY MORSTAN.

John gasped," No..."he wailed,without sound..."No...please...I..."

He grabs at the grass around it,..."Dream... it was only a dream...No wedding, no child, no Sherlock. You've all been dead the entire time,and only in the mind of an insane ,discharged army medic!" he croaked...

"Oh, no...Oh, please, no...Oh, what sort of fairytales have I believed?...What has been the point anyway? Please..."

He bowed his head..."Please...stop. Stop ...in my chest...my heart and all that...I can't...It hurts too much-I know the reason!-I...

Same reason I became a doctor. Same reason I followed the world's-only-in-my-head consulting detectve...same reason I fell in love with an imaginary-dead assasin! I cared...I cared too much. Caring is a disadvantage. And love is dangerous...And I like danger, flirt with death...Well,maybe I should be dead..."

Sherlock grit his teeth, waiting for John's heart to unfold on itself, and tell him the truth. To solve the case for himself...which had been Sherlock's intent all along.

"NO!NO, NOT in my head. Nobody can be THAT clever."John rose up from where he knelt. The wolf-wild wind began to howl at the mist, and chase it like ghost-white sheep ,away over folds of onyx night.

"Nobody can trick themselves into love...No...No, this is not in my head...I'm not asleep,and I can't lie to myself anymore...

I have loved and I have lost,but the past is the past..."

He turns to Sherlock, who kneels immediately, and takes his arms, anticipating his reaction.

"You...You git you...you never intended to solve her case, you knew what I would say, what I would conclude,eh?Well, the case is closed, without being solved,as sometimes happens to us, eh,Sherlock?The problems of her past, are that ,the past. But...her future will be a privledge to me...if she will allow me...And we can start over...in your legacy. I don't want to dig into her past, Sherlock, I want you to take me to her!"

Sherlock smiled, having won, after all..."Follow me..."

He lead him through misty London streets, the mist turning to a sort of healing balm. John felt light as vapor, knowing that no matter what Mary chose, all would now be well. Because his grudge for her had died, and Sherlock kept his vow ,regardless of how she had thwarted his friendship and help, and ended his last case with a blood-and-lead based seal of fate. It may not be "happily ever after", but it would be really be "after"(which is even better than "over") now...

He lead John to Big Ben, as the night grew deep. And helped him climb the tower,to the face of the clock.

"Take my hand!"

John obeyed, curiosity freezing him. The clock struck midnight, and two huge, black gates to eternity opened, and Sherlock stepped inside.

They appeared in a room like a thousand, thousand revolving glass doors. Sherlock smirked, almost mischievously."You're lucky. We've caught her on the very last night of her life,if she had her way."In music city let the music die"What a cryptic note,clever girl..."

John looked at him in horror, as they stepped through the burnished ,spinning glass, to standing under the neon lights, and on the sidewalk by the Life Way bookstore,in Nashville ,Tennessee.


	10. Chapter 10 Now Happily After

**Chapter 10: Now After Happily**

**Author's Note:This chapter was inspired by "At This Point in My Life" by Tracey Chapman. They played it at my uncle's funeral .Very good song.~**

"Where...where are...?"

"Welcome to Nashville,Tennessee, John. Your wife came here to meet a client, but your daughter has been hautning her for months now, and tonight she has had enough. Do you see that building? That's the Frist Museum; it's an art museum. Also in this area,there's a lot of old churches...That's where..she will do it..."

"Do...do what?"

Sherlock pulled a crumpled letter out of his pocket,and handed it to John:

_Dear Sherlock,_

_Sure you probably never wanted to hear from me again...We 'll be neighbours now, in the old bone yard, but I won't bother you._

_But I feel of all the people I should make my note out to,it really should be you.I can't get you out of my head ,Sherlock..._

_It's not an excuse, it doesn't make it ok. But I didn't MEAN to kill knows,I thought the shot would only wound you, keep you off my tracks, while I went to continue living my "bad girl" ways out, to the end of my days. And it probably wouldn't have killed you...oh but John, knowing he was THERE that he would SEE it...The shot missed...Gravely missed...And now you will be forever missed..._

_And I have lived my bad girl ways out to the end of my days, for certain. Because today is the end of those days. "In music city,let the music die". I've been hearing your waltz in my head, every night when I've tried (and failed) to sleep._

_But not anymore,Sherlock, except maybe the last time, like the Lullaby I don't deserve..._

_It only seems fitting that the last bullet I ever fire will stop me...I'll rid the world of alot more trouble with this one shot, won't I?_

_So, I guess this is "Goodbye" Sherlock Holmes. And thank you for keeping your promise ,though I REALLY didn't deserve it. Still,thank you for understanding, for being who you were..._

_Please keep watching over Ellie..._

_And please...Don't tell John..._

_I'm so sorry..._

_~Mary Watson._

"Oh no-she's not doing this to me, too!"John shouted,ripping the note up, adrenaline blazing.

"Uncle Sherlock!"Ellie screamed, and came running, (and he came running to her), from(and towards) the dark old church.

"Uncle Sherlock...Mummy's gotten really drunk,and has all these pills...and she's pointing her pistol at her head...I'm scared!"Sherlock swallowed, mustering words to try and explain the situation to a child, which children were always hard to explain to ,for him, anyway. It was bad enough,with his brilliance, to try to explain to adults...But John came, and lifted her head, in tender fingers.

"You stay with your uncle, Ella. Daddy 's got this..."

Her eyes got wide.."Daddy?You?-SHERLOCK!"Ellie laughed wildly,and kissed Sherlock's face wildly. John looked back just in time to see it,and to see Sherlock's wildly blinking reaction...

"Ellie, ..."Sherlock began, for once not sure how this would play out.

"You did it, you did it!, Uncle Sherlock, I KNEW YOU-ACHH!" She squealed,and clutched Sherlock, and it was the thought of his daughter's devastation if he failed,that gave John the last burst of strength he needed, to burst into the church, just as Mary was taking one more pill, to get her high enough not to feel what she was about to do.

"1-2..."

"You put that gun down,or I'll pick it up and shoot myself with it, and we'll be like another bloody Romeo and Juliet."

"JOHN!" Mary squeaked,and the pistol clattered on the floor, going off, but missing the both of them...

John stood frozen in place,taking her in. Just as beautiful as she had been 7 years ago...but so much more weathered... And he knew then the years of his unforgiveness had not been kind to her...He wished...he had done this sooner.

A light came on somewhere else in the church, and illuminated Mary's stood up ,slowly...

"How did you...?Oh,curses...Sherlock...He's been haunting you too, eh?It's his fault, that you..."

She started crying, "John, I never meant to kill him-I never meant for you to see it, I was just trying to protect our baby from that terrible man,-Magnusson- and then the drink-and I lost our baby-killed my own baby with drink and drugs,John!-and...and...I didn't mean too...It's...I'm sorry..this is penance,...it's what people do ,isn't it?"

She reaches for the gun again, but John kicks it away.

"Hang people, and hang what they do!" he cried, getting closer...Almost menacing in the heat of his emotions, and she took a step back,afraid he had come to finish her off, to make her pay for what she had done.

He took one large step,and pulled her into his arms,looking into her eyes...

"And never mind why you did it, it's done. Sherlock's dead,and so is Ellie..."

She sobbed, guiltily.

"And we can't bring them back with any penance...But...we can honor their memory...We can...make their lives mean something...And how can we do that if we go on, like we are going? I could have you tried for murder, Sherlock could have given me more than enough evidence to have you executed ,even. And you know that, don't you? And , in the eyes of the law, that might be what you deserve, and you know that, too..."

She bows her head, nodding wildly...

"But I love you...so I can't let you do that. And if that means I'm going against the law, by letting you live, then I'm going to be an outlaw, now. And if that means we can't go home, then ,baby, run away with me! "

She looks up at him, absolutely stunned. And he is smiling through his tears. "We've been saved from our own devices this long for a reason. Sherlock and Ellie were a gift that netiher of our blood-stained, miserable selves deserved...but...Sherlock...he-he understood, because he wasn't an angel..He was a human, the most "human" human,and the best,and wisest that I ever knew...And I loved him-God, I loved him!-from the moment I laid eyes on him,till the moment you closed his eyes...and I will never get over him. But I can go "after" him. I can carry his torch, I can make sure that he doesn't die in vain. That what he stood for,will not stop being stood for. The thing that he believed the strongest was that, heroes don't exist, but there are people willing to do what ordinary people won't, for the greater good. He was the "guardian of justice" or whatever, but he also knew love was the most vicious motivator on the face of the earth, and there's no telling what he would be willng to do to protect who he loved...He understood..." John felt like he was babbling now...and he shook his head.

"If it's good enough for you, then I'm willing to let the problems of your past die... with him. What I would like, is to live the future he never got, putting your skills,and my memory of his methods(not to mention that he's kinda still with us) to a better use. And then we could pay a better penance than all the bullets in the world could serve. We could undo what we have done, unbind the chains, unwrite the notes, and stop the spilling of the blood we used to shed. We could bind the wounds we caused, couldn't we?So what do you say,Nurse? Run away with me?"

She couldn't speak, only sob,and smile,and so the three Watsons,from that hour forth,were officially the Watson's again. And John kissed his bride, more than once, having missed doing that.

And then he lead her into the sanctuary.

Sherlock was curled up in a pew ,with Ellie on his lap, laying half asleep on his chest, reading out of a huge old Bible,

"And if we confess our sins, He is faithful to forgive us our sins,and to clean us from them..."Sherlock was reading, and then he thumbed a few pages, and read,and paraphrased in words that a 7 year old could understand, "Whoevers sins you forgive they are forgiven, but whose sins you hold against them,are held against them.."Crinkling pages,..."And this is my command,that you love one another as I have loved you..."

"I like that,Uncle Sherlock."Ellie muttered..

"So do I..." he laughed, but shut it quickly when he saw the couple.

"Oh look who's here."

"Mum and Dad together!"Ellie chirped,unwilling to get up from Sherlock's chest.

But Sherlock stood up,and groggily, Ellie rose to her feet.

"It's time." he said to her.

"For Operation Reunion to come to its close?"

"Yup. Flowers?"

She runs to the back of the church.

Sherlock takes the old bible, and motions to the couple,to follow him to the , but happy, they oblige him.

Ellie came out then, wearing a little crown of clover blossoms on her head. She put a choir robe on her mother's head ,for a sort of bridal veil,and she started scattering half-dried up funeral flowers around for ceremony. Sherlock cleared his throat. "Are we all ready to renew our vows then?"

John's mouth opened,and closed.

"You? You too?"

Sherlock smiled, "Of course..."


	11. Epilouge (The Watsons Go to Hong Kong)

**Epilouge**

**(The Watsons Go to Hong Kong)**

And so thus it was, that John and Mary renewed their vows, and Sherlock renewed his vow to "Always watch over you. All 4 of you..."

"Sherlock, there's 3 of us...only 3..."Ellie noted.

"Are you pregnant?!"John asked, brows knitted, wondering fleetingly what else Mary had been up to during her "bad girl" days...

"No!" she protested, and gave him an anguished look, that he would have to continue to suspect her of wrong doing...

"No,I don't think I can carry to term...I went to see a doctor after I lost Ellie...and uh...She said it would be very hard after ...I have kinda fried my liver drinking..."

John looked crest-fallen. Sherlock hoisted Ellie up, "I said 4 because there's 1 more of us on the way..." he smiled beautifully at Ellie,who giggled.

"A suprise?"

"Yup..."

"I like those."

"The nice kind?Who doesn't darling?"

Sherlock turned to her parents. "A very good suprise. You want to use your powers for good? Well, fear not, there is a work that needs doing ..in China...It just so happens that I met an old acquaintance, beyond this veil of tears...Do you remember Soo Lin Yao,John?"

John swallowed, and gulped, "Yes..."

"Do you remember what forced her to work for the bosses?"

"She was an orphan?"

"There's some one I want you to meet. A little cousin of Soo Lin Yao ,who met with very like circumstance. Someone she wants to spare her same fate. Well ,you want to pay your penance by saving the world?Alright,then, you'll have to start somewhere?"

~So by and by the Watsons ended up, with their guardian angel Sherlock along for the ride, in Hong Kong ,China. And there, when they were "honey-mooning" in a fancy hotel, awaiting the Chinese new year(getting to China took them some time, Mary had to "dry out" first, in a rehab center on their way to Hollywood,which Ellie ended up seeing ,as promised, and which Sherlock despised ,as prophesied.)

And it turned out that Sherlock was not an angel, but one of the many despised among the Prophets ,after all, because there on the sidewalks of Hong Kong, selling firecrackers, and awaiting the doom of the bosses, when the New Year was over,and firecrackers were not needed any more, the Watsons ran across one boy that called himself "Arthur".

Sherlock knelt in front of Arthur, after John had bought Ellie a pack of firecrackers. Something was telling John, that Sherlock's words were about to come true, that this was the child which he foresaw, the one that would begin their "penance", and also pay a debt they somewhat owed Soo Lin Yao, when they failed to save her life.

"I'm not what I seem."Sherlock began.

"I know who you are. I've been waiting for you..."said the child,and Sherlock smiled.

"Your cousin sent me..."

"Yes...You are the Angel of Death...The Prophet of Shadows...And you know us ,the children of the shadows, because you are one of us, you always have been..."

"You've many friends who were also street children, who were sold to the Slave Trade. And you want them back...And I am a detective, in need of a job. I know an ex-assasin who needs a new career. And an ex-army-doctor who'd like to bind up the wounds of war, before they ever start to bleed. And there's a little girl that was never born, that needs a life, and a family,and you seem like the tough big-brother sort, aren't you? So,what do you say,Arthur?...Help the Watson's pay their debt?"

Arthur smiled, wrapping a firecracker in paper,as he thought, and studied John. "If the immortal Sherlock Holmes says he can follow this man...Then yes...yes I can do it.I have wanted a father since mine has left the world...And maybe...maybe some day ..."the boy smiled,and bowed, "I will grow to respect this man as such..."

Sherlock smiled, and looked back at John, smiling, and turning to the boy again. " This man is my light! My northern star! And just because I don't understand the solar system, doesn't mean I can't appreciate the stars for their light, nor does it mean I don't have the sense to know which one of them to follow. And what would be the point of my lying to you?I swear to you, on my lack of a life, that John Watson is a man you can trust. I would follow him to Hell, just to pull him away form the heat of the flame, and burn myself in the process..."

John swallowed a lump in his throat at this comment, mostly because it was true. He would.

The boy swallowed a lump of his own, "And she...she can be trusted too?"

Mary swallowed , waiting for Sherlock to show his doubt,

"She's like us...Born of shadows. But she just happens to know the power of forgiveness, the power of the broken chain...And if I needed someone to be my guide through Hell...I could count on Mary..."

"Very good, because we'll need a leader to follow through the hell we'd go through if you took my case..."

"I'm all ears.."

For the first time in the conversation the boy,around age 13, showed the tears signifying the pain a child more keenly feels.

"My sister...And 12 others...Sold to the drug runners...Disappeared...To a group of criminals that no one's ever heard of before. As much ghosts and shadows,as you and I..."

Sherlock smiled.

Stood up slowly,and turned to John and Mary, "Are you ready for your "sackcloth and ashes"?"

Arthur's eyes met John's ,and he knew that this was not penance ,but blessing,as today he may have gained a son...

"I'm ready for redemption..."

Sherlock drew a deep breath..."I feel the approach of fire...This..this...is brilliant!" He ran his fingers through his hair, eagerly,muttering "Data,data,data, we need data..."

Mary felt tears,thinking of the lost children,and how she who had orphaned so many, was now being commissioned to call the orphans home. Redemption may be in sight?

Arthur felt a pale shadow near his elbow then.

"Hello...I'm Ellie...your sister...if you like..."

**~The End.**


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